It's A Lifetime Kinda Thing
by A-non.Lurker
Summary: An AU O/S. Simply some snapshots of Lucas and Peyton growing up together and into something he didn't see coming. Rated M for light language and some smutty moments...


**A/N: Hey everyone! Yep, another one-shot, lol. I think I just like these...so much easier to write than a longer fic! The style is a little different than usual...**

**This is basically a walk-through of an alternate Lucas/Peyton told from his POV. This is rated M for slight language and the smut towards the end. You've been warned! **

**I don't own OTH or it's characters, only the journey I choose to take them on. As well as any and all mistakes, as this is unbeta'd.

* * *

**

He's four years-old the first time he meets her.

A few months ago, a new couple moved in next door to the house he lives in with his mom. She and the woman became fast friends, exchanging recipes, sharing gossip, and talking about what they'd like to do in their lives. His favorite part of it all is visiting the other house, because he always gets a big glass of chocolate milk and cookies.

Then one day his mom tells him the neighbors are getting a new baby. He's curious to know where it is, but his mom says babies grow in mommies' tummies, and come out when doctors say they're ready. He just nods, and goes to play. There's no baby right now, so he doesn't really care.

He does care, though, when he goes over to the house a few weeks later and the adults are all looking at a tiny baby and talking in funny voices. He's not impressed by the display because he can't see the big deal. It's just a baby. He's cooler, because he can actually _do_ stuff.

Then his mom has him sit down on the couch next to her while she has the baby in her arms. He's jealous since it's _his_ mom. But she just angles her arms so he can see_. Isn't she beautiful_?

He studies the little girl. Her eyes are closed, she doesn't have any hair, she's kind of pinkish, and both her hands are clenched into tiny fists. He wonders if they'd even hurt when she'd hit someone. But he glances up to meet his mom's eyes and dutifully nods...even though he's not sure he'd call her beautiful.

The baby's mom says he can hold her if he's careful. He's a little scared, because he feels too big; what if he breaks her? His mom laughs and says he'll be fine, placing the tiny girl into his arms.

Her face scrunches up and she makes little sounds, drawing a fist to her face. He's nervous, but his mom says he's doing great. Since she's only really lying against one of his arms, he uses his other hand to tentatively touch one of those tiny fists. Her hand opens, fingers stretching. He smiles, and moves his finger to touch her palm. She's really soft. He didn't know people could feel like that.

And when those tiny fingers curl around his bigger one, he's fascinated. He kinda looks like a giant compared to her.

Her dad comes and sits next to him, telling the moms that they need a man-to-man moment. When the bigger man turns to him, he's a little scared, afraid that maybe he did something wrong.

But he's told that he's a good boy, and grown-up enough to do a _really big favor_. He's asked to look after the little girl while her daddy's away on jobs. He won't be gone long, but he needs to know that someone _like him_ will be helping.

It's a really huge promise, and he feels really grown-up when he shakes the older man's hand on it. The little girl in his arms is gonna depend on him too, now.

He studies the baby carefully. Her face scrunches up again, but this time her tiny eyes open. They look right at him, making him smile.

He whispers, "Hi, Peyton. I'm Lucas Scott. I'm gonna help take care of you."

**0.o o_o o.0**

She's five years-old and drives him completely crazy.

She's no longer without hair or pinkish. And he's since found out that tiny fists do hurt when they hit.

She has the biggest green eyes he's ever seen and the most crazy curls. But she's still tinier than he is; actually, she's tinier than other kids her age, too. Sometimes he thinks she looks like she's running on toothpicks, because she has the skinniest legs. Her dad calls her chicken because of that.

When Lucas laughs at her, she balls up a tiny fist and rams it against his arm. He taunts that it doesn't hurt (even if it sometimes does) and then pulls on a curl. He likes watching it bounce back up. And, as an added bonus, she hates when he does that.

Its summer and he's really excited because his mom says he's mature enough this year to ride his bike to the empty lot two blocks over and play baseball with the other boys his age.

Of course, Peyton wants to tag along. She still has training wheels on her bike, and isn't allowed to cross any streets without an adult. Plus, she can't play baseball, and he'll be too busy playing with the other boys to entertain her. When he tells her no, she frowns at him, stomps her foot, and races into her kitchen where their moms are having tea.

Anna, her mom, says it's okay as long as she stays with Lucas. Karen, his mom, says its okay, but he has to make sure and watch her.

_He_ does not find any of this okay. But he does as he's told, because he knows that if he doesn't, he won't get to go either. And he really wants to.

Maybe he's a little mad, because he doesn't wait for her as he rides along the sidewalks. He only stops when they have to cross the street, since he's supposed to cross with her. When she tries to talk to him, he pretends he doesn't hear her.

The other boys tease him for bringing her along, which really embarrasses him. Peyton only makes it worse when she asks to play and announces that she can make just as many touch-downs as any boy. When they howl in laughter, Lucas wishes the ground would just open up so he'd disappear.

They let her be on Lucas' team. He's the captain, so he tells her to go stand way out in left field; he wants her out of the way so she doesn't mess up their game.

He knows she's bored, because she constantly tells him so, but he's still mad that she had to come. So maybe he's a little mean when he says he doesn't care. And maybe he feels a little bad when her eyes get bigger and she looks like she's gonna cry. And maybe he hides that a little too well when he orders her to just _go away_.

It's only been around five minutes before he feels too guilty to keep playing. He turns to the benches on the side of the field and freezes. His heart starts beating really fast and he gets really scared when he can't see her. He gazes around the entire lot frantically, but she's nowhere in sight. Without even saying a word to anyone else, Lucas jumps onto his bike and races down the street in the direction of their houses.

He doesn't see her at all on the way there. And her bike's not in either of their yards or on either porch. He's too afraid to tell his mom what happened, so he turns his bike around and heads back towards the lot, calling her name every once in awhile.

Antwon, one of his best friends, flags him down to point to a place across the street. Lucas can just make out the blue of her bicycle. He lets out a huge gust of air in relief, thanking his friend, before walking his bike to where she's huddled, knees against her chest.

Her back's to him, and she's using a small stick to dig into the dirt by her shoes, making enough noise to cover his approach, so she shrieks a little when he puts his hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay! It's just me." He says quickly, not wanting her to be afraid.

She just turns her head away and ignores him, hugging her knees to herself tightly.

"Peyton, why'd you leave? You know you were supposed to stay with me." He can't help the rough tone, because he's too relieved that she's okay.

"What?" She turns really fast, glaring at him. He can see the tear tracks on her face and that her eyes are red, which makes him feel a little bad. He didn't mean to make her cry. But her next words make him feel worse.

"You said to go away." She sniffles. "So I did. But I got scared crossing the street, an' I didn't want to do it again, so I just stayed here."

He sighs, dropping down to sit next to her. "I didn't mean it like that. I just wanted to play with my friends and you were bugging me. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

She starts crying again, using one small fist to rub at her eyes. "I th-thought I was your friend, too. But y-you were m-mean. And you didn't care when ever'body la-laughed at me."

He doesn't think he can feel any worse than he does right now.

He pulls her into his side, making shushing sounds as she cries, awkwardly patting her shoulder. When she finally stops, he makes her look at him.

"I'm sorry. You _are_ my friend and I should have been nicer. It's just sometimes, I want to play with other friends. I was just mad that I had to bring you when you don't know how to play or even like it."

She smiles just a tiny smile and nods her head. "I don't like it. I think it's dumb. But I like playing with you, Luke."

"I like playing with you, too." He smiles, playfully tugging one of her curls. She doesn't get mad this time. "Know what?"

She sniffles again. "What?"

"I think we need a plan. Sometimes I might want to play with other friends and so will you—"

"I don't know other kids."

"You will when you start school this year. Anyway, we have to promise to not get mad when that happens. And to always make time to play together."

"Just you and me?" She looks up at him, eyes still watery, and bites her lip.

He nods. "Just you and me. Okay?"

"Promise, promise?"

"Promise, promise." He smiles.

She grins back. "Pinkie-swear?"

He rolls his eyes, but laughs out loud. "Pinkie-swear."

When they link pinkies, he tilts his head at her, deciding to let her in on a ritual he has. "You know how to make a pinkie-swear even more stronger?"

She scrunches her face. "How?"

"Well, first we gotta shake our hands three times," He demonstrates, "saying, 'I solemnly swear' at the same time. Then, we each gotta kiss our thumbs at the same time. That seals the promise, and you can't ever break it."

"Really?" He can hear the doubt in her voice, so he nods.

"My mom taught me when I was your age. And now I'm teaching you. But you gotta swear on your life to never tell anybody about it, okay?"

"Okay." She giggles, "I pinkie-swear!"

Laughing, they perform their new ritual. He's glad that she stopped crying. And he's glad that they made this new deal. He really does like playing with her, because she's more fun than other younger kids. But at the same time, he wants to do big kid stuff. Now he won't have to take her along when he doesn't want to, or have to feel bad about hurting her feelings.

"Come on, Peyton." Lucas stands, dusting off the back of his pants.

She follows suit, making a face when she gets more dirt on her shorts than off of them. He just laughs.

"Where?"

"I'm gonna teach you how to hit a home-run." He emphasizes the correct term.

She frowns. "What if I can't? What if the other boys laugh?"

"I'm gonna teach you." He repeats, picking up his bike (she does the same with hers) and walking it to the corner of the street with the cross-walk. "And I'll make sure no one laughs at you."

"Okay." She smiles at him. Then frowns. "What 'bout our deal? dont'cha want to play without me buggin' you?"

"Nah. Our deal can start tomorrow. Right now, I'm gonna teach you. And I promise to only laugh a little bit." He separates an inch between his finger and his thumb, demonstrating.

"And I promise to only bug you a little bit." She giggles, making a face at him.

They both keep their promises. Lucas is surprised at how much fun he has, now that he's not mad at her anymore. And he knows the other boys are surprised when she actually hits the ball, even though she doesn't ever hit it that far.

When they ride home later that afternoon, and she's chatting excitedly about _doin' good with baseball_, he makes another promise to himself.

To try his hardest to make her smile instead of cry. Because he swore he'd help take care of her.

**0.o o_o o.0**

When he's twelve, he makes plans to attend his first-ever school dance.

He even shyly invites a girl. She's a pretty red-head named Marissa and he's liked her for two weeks, now. She says yes, which makes him blush, but he's happy.

They decide to meet there, that way neither of their moms can trap them into hours of pictures. Karen, of course, states that she's just going to bring her camera and take the pictures there. He really hopes she's joking. He doesn't want to be embarrassed in front of the girl he likes.

The weekend before the dance, his mom takes him to the mall to pick out dressier clothes. He wants to look nice...for Marissa. He gets a light blue button down shirt, black slacks, and new black shoes. When he gets them home, everything is washed, ironed, and carefully hung up in his closet for the big night.

When the night comes, he's nervous. He must have checked his newly-cut blonde hair a gazillion times, making sure it's exactly how he wants it. He's opened the fridge a thousand times to double check that the wrist corsage he got for Marissa is still fresh and pretty. It has tiny bundles of baby's breath with small pink flowers and white ribbon. Marissa said those were her favorite colors.

His is blue. So is Peyton's. As least for right now; last month hers had been an odd silvery color.

Almost as if he made her appear, Peyton bursts through the back door shouting his mom's name. She stops short when she sees him, eyes widening. "Wow. You're all dressed up, Luke."

He rolls his eyes at the obvious statement, before smoothing down his shirt for the hundredth time. "Well, how do I look?"

She tilts her head and studies him. "Um, fine I guess."

"You think a girl my age will think so?"

She scowls. "I'm a girl and I think so. Girls your age can't be _that_ different."

He sticks his tongue out at her at the same time his mom enters the kitchen. She lightly taps the back of his head, "Lucas. Be nice."

His eyes widen, and he darts back into the bathroom to make sure she didn't mess up his hair. He can hear his mom and Peyton talking about his 'date' with Marissa and the fact that Anna needs two eggs for a recipe she's trying out. He doesn't pay too much attention, because he's focused on checking his hair. It's okay.

He wanders back into the kitchen again, heading straight for the fridge. His mom just laughs, but Peyton gives him a weird look. "Are you gonna eat in those clothes?"

"No." He takes out the corsage, holding it out for her to see. "I got this for Marissa. What do you think?"

She scrunches up her face, just like she's always done since she was a baby. "It's pink."

"I know."

They share glances full of understanding. Neither of them is particularly fond of that color. Lucas because he thinks it's too girly, and Peyton because it happens to be a favorite of the girl who sits next to her in class...who wears it everyday. She got tired of seeing that color.

Karen passes the eggs to the curly-haired child, smiling as she asks her son, "Luke? Ready to go?"

He's nervous again, but he nods. Karen tells Peyton to tell Anna that she'll come over after dropping Lucas off. Peyton teases him a little for carrying around girly-flowers, before telling him to have fun. He doesn't see her standing there as he walks to the car, staring wistfully after him. He's not aware that she's a tiny bit jealous since he never brought her flowers. He doesn't know that she's thinking she doesn't like Marissa, even though they never met. Because she has Lucas acting un-Luke-like over her. And Peyton doesn't like it one little bit.

Lucas finds the dance a little uncomfortable. There's only so much a boy can talk to a girl about at a dance. He's told her he thinks her dress is pretty. The snacks are good. The decorations nice. She dances well. He probably spends more time chatting with his guy friends than with his date, but he's not sure what else to say.

He tried talking about sports; she's not interested.

She actually likes the music the dee-jay is playing, so he can't make fun of it.

She only reads when she has to for school, so he can't talk with her about his favorite books and authors.

The movies he likes are ones she doesn't, though they do have a brief comparison of a few they've both seen. But that only lasts so long.

He thinks it's a little weird, but he finds himself missing the presence of a certain eight year-old he knows. She's young, but her taste in music is varied and really good. She's always willing to try a book he recommends, even though sometimes she needs help understanding it. She doesn't care if he rambles about sports, because she'll just ramble about the art exhibits she's seen recently. And, in his opinion, she has pretty decent taste in movies for a kid her age.

He's never bored when they hang out and he never runs out of things to talk about, like he has with Marissa. He figures he'd be having a lot more fun if Peyton had been allowed to come, too.

As soon as he gets home, he quickly changes his clothes and heads to the narrow gate Larry (Peyton's dad) had installed in the fence between their back yards. It makes it easier for Karen and Anna (as well as Lucas and Peyton) to go between the houses without taking the long way around the front yards. He absently plucks a little honey-suckle from his side of the fence before he goes through, fiddling with the blossoms between his fingers.

Peyton's curled up on the glider-swing, with a blanket wrapped around her. She has her headphones on and is industrially moving a pencil over a sketchpad. When he drops down beside her, she startles, quickly turning the sketchbook over.

"Luke! Hey." She tugs the headphones off, returning the smile he offers her. "How was the dance?"

He shrugs. "Okay, I guess. The music kind of sucked."

"Mainstream, huh?" She shakes her head, making curls bounce.

"Yep." He reaches for the overturned sketchbook, changing the subject. "What'cha doing?"

She yanks it out of his grasp and slides it underneath herself. "Nothing!"

"What is it? Peyton..."

They kind of have a staring contest. He's older, so he's had more practice getting what he wants from her, and easily wins the stare-down as she starts fidgeting. Finally, she heaves a sigh and pulls the sketchbook out again.

"My mom's teaching me how to draw. I'm supposed to be working on shading a face, but I can't do it."

He looks down at the paper, incredibly surprised when he can actually recognize the face staring back at him. It's her mom, drawn laughing. "Peyton this is...this is really, really good."

"You really think so?" She bites her lip nervously, shifting to point to the paper. "See that? It's supposed to look like her head is turned a little. It mostly just looks like she's got something on her face."

He laughs softly, handing the sketchbook back. "Well, maybe a little. But you'll get better with practice."

She scrunches up her face, making him chuckle again. "I guess."

It's already kind of late—way past her bedtime—and he's a little tired from the dance. So they don't sit there for much longer before they're telling each other goodnight. Before he leaves, Lucas hands over the tiny bundle of honey-suckle and smiles at her. He doesn't know that she's a little stunned. He's never given her any kind of flowers before; it makes her feel better about her thoughts earlier that evening.

Maybe un-Luke-like behavior is okay. As long as he's still mostly the same.

She knows he is when he reaches over and tugs on a curl, before laughing when she swats his hand away.

"'Night Peyton."

"'Night, Luke."

But he doesn't move, raising an eyebrow at her. She rolls her eyes and reluctantly clambers off the swing and heads to her back door. "Good-night, _Lucas_."

He laughs softly to himself at the snootily-delivered farewell as the door shuts behind her. But he wasn't going to leave her outside alone. That's part of helping her dad take care of her.

**0.o o_o o.0**

_She's only eleven. She shouldn't have to be dealing with this._

Those are the thoughts running through his head while he fumbles with the tie around his neck. His uncle Keith has tried to teach him a million times, but he can never seem to get it just right. He can hear his mom moving around her room getting ready for the day ahead. The mood over his house is somber and sad.

There's been absolutely no activity, that he can see, from the house next door since he heard the news last week. He hasn't even seen a peek of curly blonde hair, and he's worried.

It's not supposed to be like this.

A long ago promise made to her dad filters into his mind, creating a mix of anger, sympathy, resolve, and nervousness to swirl around in his stomach. Because her dad is no longer able to look after her, himself. Only Lucas is there to do it.

A huge storm had come in while Larry was on a tiny transport back to shore. He and three other men never made it. Of those four, rescue workers recovered two bodies they'd called families in to identify. In a single instant, any hope Anna or Peyton had was obliterated.

Lucas wants to get away from all of the thoughts he's having. He wants to go back to last week when Peyton was annoying him by daring one of her friends to sing a song about him outside his window. He wants to go back to before he's ever had to think about death and grief at all.

Mostly, he just wants to _see_ how Peyton is with his own eyes.

Giving up on his tie, Lucas grabs his suit jacket and eases out of the house without alerting his mom. He's careful entering the house next door, never even encountering Anna as he makes a beeline for Peyton's room. The door's not locked, so he gently pushes it open and peers inside.

It's shadowy, and he can barely make out the shape of his friend who's curled into the fetal position at the end of her bed, staring blankly at the wall opposite her. She doesn't even move when he closes the door and approaches her.

"Peyton?" It's barely a whisper as he crouches down to be eye level with her.

Her head turns towards him the tiniest bit. "Hi." Her voice is a rusty croak, sounding like it hasn't been used in years. And like she's spent a lot of time crying.

He gently strokes a hand down her hair, but doesn't say anything. It's silent for a few moments before she sits up with a sniffle, bringing her green eyes to meet his blue ones. The look he sees in them makes his heart clench. It's like her previous innocence has just been unalterably tarnished; he knows it has, but seeing it reflected in her eyes is harder to handle.

Still without speaking, he draws her into his chest, cradling her against him, as she clings tightly. She's shaking a little and her breaths are shuddery, but her eyes stay dry. He literally feels her building a wall around herself as she pulls out of his arms. He doesn't like it; she's too young to feel the need to do that.

He doesn't know what to say at all. He just knows that if he could go back in time and change it for her, he would.

She shifts under his intense gaze, her own eyes dropping to the tie that's draped around his neck, but still not done. Almost absently, she tugs at the ends, pulling him into place. Her hands move expertly as they form a solid, clean knot. Letting it drop, she pats a hand to it, while he stares in amazement.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" He wants to take the words back as soon as they fly out his mouth, because his brain catches up to fairly shout the answer at him. He grimaces slightly.

Her eyes fall shut as her throat moves when she swallows hard. "My dad always said 'every girl should know how to tie a knot 'round her man.' He taught me."

That's when her composure shatters, leaving her collapsed against him as she's wracked with sobs. He simply holds her, feeling the tears well in his own eyes for his friend's suffering. She's much too young to have a loss of this magnitude. To have someone she loves ripped from her life without warning.

It feels like hours later before his mom's head appears around the door to tell them it's time. The ride to the service is silent, Anna's hand clasped within Karen's and Lucas' hand engulfing Peyton's much smaller one. He may not know what to say, but he can be there when she needs him.

So he's there, holding her hand when Anna breaks down trying to give a eulogy and barely manages to form the words.

He's there, letting her lean against him during the graveside service, and squeezing her hand in comfort before she steps closer to drop in a single white rosebud.

He's there as people flow through the house, paying their respects and giving their condolences, lending a quiet support and running interference when he can tell she's close to breaking.

He's there when the day proves too much, and she's left in sobs again.

And he's there, over the course of the next few months, helping the Sawyer girls as much as he can. He and his mom both. He's done his best—and knows his mom has talked to her as well—to make sure Peyton's not closing herself off. And all three of them have done their best to be a solid source of strength and comfort for Anna. To keep her going.

He tries his hardest to talk to Peyton about everything, asking his mom's advice when he flounders.

He's there when Peyton giggles for the very first time, then cries because she feels guilty about it. And he's there to go with her to visit her dad's headstone for the first time since the funeral. It's been almost six months to the day since it happened. He watches her kneel in front of it, laying a single flower—a carnation this time—at the base of the stone and trace the letters in her dad's name. He sits back and waits, watching this girl that he's known his whole life exhibit a strength he's in awe of. He doesn't know if he could do the same.

It's only after things have calmed down a lot that Lucas realizes something kind of big. He started out wanting to help Peyton because of a promise made to Larry when he was four years-old. He maintained that vow over the years, wanting to live up to the responsibility the older man trusted him with. But now things have changed.

Peyton's one of his closest friends, even with the age difference. He cares about her a lot. And he's taking care of her now, simply for no other reason than that.

When Peyton's done talking to her dad, she slowly walks to the street where Keith's waiting in the car. She's deep in thought, so she doesn't notice when Lucas lingers a moment longer.

Taking just the time needed for one last reassurance.

"I'll keep taking care of her, Larry. I promise."

**0.o o_o o.0**

He has to laugh the year she gets her learner's permit.

He's spent the last year away at college, only really keeping in touch with Peyton via email. They send each other funky e-cards, long rambly letters, pictures, and the occasional song.

Then one morning, there's a blank message from her in his email with an attachment. He's thinking it's an mp3, but when he opens it, he actually finds a scanned image. Of a learner's permit.

He's heard the horror stories from his newly-adoptive dad (his former uncle, Keith) about her driving skills. Or lack thereof. He can't actually believe anyone would trust her to drive in the streets, from what he's heard. Of course, she doesn't really appreciate when anyone teases her about it, so he makes sure to add at least one insult per email. Just on principle.

That summer, when he goes home for vacation, he gets to experience being a passenger in a car driven by a bat out of hell. He honestly fears for his life. Keith pats his shoulder when they vacate the car at the house after picking up Lucas from the airport, telling him that he'd get used to it.

He vows to spend the rest of the summer either never sitting in a car with her again, or showing her the correct way to drive.

They're only a few weeks into summer when Anna pulls him and Keith aside. Apparently, Larry had a plan for when his daughter reached driving age. He wanted to give her a vintage car, the one that still sits in his aunt's garage. The engine is basically crap, but the frame is in near perfect condition. Keith's excited to rise to the challenge, launching a search for an identical car to switch out the engines.

It's a 1963 Mercury Comet. Black with red interior. Lucas thinks it practically shouts _Peyton_ now that she's growing up. When she finds out about it, she cries, visits her dad, then bounces around getting in their way as she inspects every square inch of her 'baby'.

She also takes her driving lessons more seriously.

The day after her sixteenth birthday in July, Peyton passes the driving portion of the test with flying colors, earning her license. It's a scary thought for Lucas. He figures her instructor had to be blind, since Peyton still has a reckless habit, even with the improvement to her ability.

Lucas seriously enjoys spending the time with Keith and learning to repair the engine of the classic car. Keith teases that he's going to need that skill for years to come, with Peyton being a part of his life. Especially when Peyton insists that no one else will ever be allowed to work on her 'baby' but those two males she trusts more than most.

That's not the only part of summer Luke enjoys. He meets Brittany, a bubbly blonde who has a body to die for. He's a guy, it's kind of expected that he'd notice when she sashays into Keith's auto shop with her parents after their car is involved in an accident.

He dislikes that he's not the only one to take notice. So does his younger (by only a few months) half-brother, Nathan, who just finished up a summer basketball camp. The boys have played the sport together since they both made varsity team freshman year. At first, everything between the two was of a borderline vicious competitive nature. They mellowed out after the first season, when they helped bring their team closer to a championship than Tree Hill has seen in decades. Then they eventually became friends, so that any competition between them now is more friendly than anything.

Including their competition to win Brittany's attention. Lucas pulls out all the stops, charming his way into her bed with an ease that's slightly unsettling. Nathan shrugs it away, turning his focus on a new girl in town, by the name of Taylor James. Lucas isn't sure who catches who, in that relationship. But oddly enough, it works out for them...at least for the summer.

Lucas and Brittany spend the remainder of summer practically attached to each other, until two weeks before he needs to return to school. Brittany's family flew back home, and it's the first time in a long while that Lucas is lacking plans.

So he heads to the beach with a book, planning to wander around the pier or the sand and just take in the last days of summer.

He runs into his brother, who's pretty pissed, and Taylor, who's trying to settle down her boyfriend.

"What happened?" Lucas inquires, not bothering to hide his amusement at his brother's attitude.

Amusement that quickly flees with Nathan's response. "Peyton."

"What's wrong? Is she okay?" Alarm spreads, making him grab Nathan's arm in a pretty tight grip.

"Yeah, she's _fine_, actually." Taylor smirks, ignoring the dark glower Nathan sends her at her comment.

Lucas narrows his eyes at his brother. "Then what's the problem?"

"That dick-wad over there," Nathan gestures to a group of guys that are sending wary glances his way. "Bet his friends that he could talk her panties off, _right in front of me_!"

"It's not like he knew you know her," Taylor sighs, aggrieved. "And I'm pretty sure he doesn't know how young she is, because I hate to break the news to you, but she's _hot_."

"She's a _kid_." Lucas grinds out, anger causing his vision to go red. He clenches his fists by his side, and scans the beach. "Where's Peyton?"

Nathan turns to him, "She was heading out to meet Brooke at the mall, when that scumbag made the comment and approached her."

"He did what?"

Taylor interrupts, "And she sent him off with his tail between his legs. She's not helpless."

Lucas doesn't bother to respond, stalking off to his car with half a mind to track her down and see for himself that she's okay, leaving his brother and Taylor to their heated debate over how old is old enough for things.

Maybe he should have taken the time to cool off before barging into Peyton's room. Or maybe he should have just knocked first. He stops, stunned, as his eyes drink her in.

Sometime when he wasn't looking, his little friend from next door grew up. And grew up beautiful.

She whirls around, instinctively bringing the shirt she just pulled off to cover herself as a flush spreads over the skin he can see.

"Lucas!" She shrieks, eyes widening.

He turns his back abruptly, trying to ignore the image of her half-dressed that's seared on his retinas. "Sorry! I'm sorry! I-I..."

"God, have you ever heard of knocking?" Her voice is muffled for a second before she gives him permission to turn around. He's almost reluctant to comply, feeling like a pervert for even noticing the creaminess of her skin. She's just a kid.

"What are you even doing here?" There's an edge to the question in a tone Lucas doesn't recognize. It's almost bitter.

"I, um heard what happened on the beach. I just wanted to see if you're okay."

She frowns at him. "Unbelievable. How did _you_ hear what happened? And I'm surprised you even noticed anything. Brittany busy?"

The caustic remark has him blinking in surprise. Apparently, she grew up in other ways, too. "Actually, her family left today."

Peyton scoffs, pushing past him to walk into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder. "So she's gone and _now_ you want to talk to me? You've been ignoring me for weeks!"

"No, I haven't." He argues. But the effort is half-hearted, since he's well aware that he's been too consumed with Brittany to pay attention to his friend. And he feels a little bad about that, but doesn't find it as big a deal as she evidently does. "Besides, it's not like we both don't have our own lives. Jeez, remember when we even made a promise about not getting mad for that?"

"God, Luke!" She slams a bottle of water down on the table next to where he's standing, grabbing another one for herself. "I was five! I don't see you for a whole year, and when you do come back, we spend, what, absolutely _no_ time together? And you leave soon, too. So I'm thinking, are we even friends anymore?"

"Of course we are! We're always going to be friends."

"Well, you have a crappy way of showing it!"

"I'm sorry!" He cries again, getting a little annoyed. He doesn't like getting taken to task for having a life of his own.

She just rolls her eyes. "Whatever." Grabbing her keys from the counter where she'd thrown them earlier, she pulls open the door. "Anyway, I'm meeting Pete for dinner. Later."

With that she sails out the door, leaving a getting-angrier-by-the-minute boy behind. First, she gets mad at him for ignoring her (apparently), and then she blatantly walks out on him when he's only trying to make sure she's okay. Disgusted with the whole thing, Lucas storms back to his house and flops onto his bed with the book he'd wanted to read all afternoon.

But he can't focus on it, because all he can see is a half-naked Peyton. And all he can think about is this Pete guy trying to _talk her out of her panties_. It disturbs him to realize part of that anger stems from jealousy. He's a grown man, at twenty years-old, who has no business even thinking about a sixteen year-old that way.

But he rationalizes it away, convincing himself it's in a purely protective manner. He's worried this Pete guy—or another one like him—is going to take advantage of her. And he's known Peyton for most of his life; it only makes sense that he'd care.

Relieved to know the reasoning behind his feelings, Lucas loses himself in the story until he's drowsy. He can't resist taking a nap.

Only to wake from a very vivid dream that leaves him sweaty and hard. A dream that gives a whole new meaning to _taking care_ of Peyton.

He heads back to school early, claiming the excuse that he wants a jump start on things. Karen waves him away with tears, Keith with teasing, Anna with a smile, and Peyton with a frown. Mostly because he can barely look at her.

He's unaware of her growing feelings for the blonde boy who's been a cornerstone of her life, and the utter jealously that overwhelmed her that summer. He doesn't know that Pete _did_ try to talk her into sex, but the only person she could even imagine touching her like that is a man who doesn't think about her in that way. She really does hate that he only ever wants to take care of her.

**0.o o_o o.0**

His college years are a whirlwind of interesting, to say the least.

After his first summer home, he has the hardest time ridding his mind of that dream, even though he's fully convinced that it was a fluke thing. Probably because he saw Peyton half naked, and he was missing the physical part of his relationship with Brittany.

So he basically finds another one. Except this one—Megan—is smart, too. They connect on many levels, and they connect...pretty well.

She's a little too uppity sometimes; taking comments meant as jokes, seriously. She doesn't really share his taste in anything. But she keeps his mind off of Peyton, which is everything he can ask for right now.

Their relationship lasts most of the semester before she finds someone more her 'class'. He doesn't care, because he was getting frustrated with her condescending attitude towards his interests and friends.

By the time they break up, Lucas hasn't had an improper thought about Peyton at all. It proves to be exactly what he'd claimed; a fluke.

Since his mind is free of that worry, he goes back to exchanging emails with his childhood friend, filling her in on life as a college student. She returns with updates on her friends' dating escapades and working in her mom's art gallery. She's thinking of launching her own showing in a few years, which he knows will be great. Her stuff usually is. He's just happy they're back to normal, telling each other everything that's happening with them.

On the professional front, Lucas takes the next couple of summers interning at various publishing companies in New York and getting a feel for being an editor. He's offered a position as a junior editor at one of the most prestigious companies in the country. Needless to say, he's ecstatic. He accepts and as soon as he graduates, he's smack-dab in the middle of the city doing something he loves.

At the personal level, that means he's only done a few trips home to see everyone. It also means a slew of dating opportunity, which he takes full advantage of.

It's unfortunate though, that he can't get serious about any of them. Actually, he can't muster up the energy to even sleep with any of them. Since Megan, he's had a whole two relationships, one of which only lasted a mere month. She'd found a picture of Peyton as a kid and made fun of it; she was gone that night.

He doesn't know what his problem is. He's hoping this job is a new start at something and he can get down to taking care of business.

**0.o o_o o.0**

Her college years aren't what he'd always thought they'd be.

First of all, she only did two years. She ends up hating the whole experience, wanting to just get it over with and jump into an adult life. So she opted for a degree in business and then opened her own. She took the experience of working the cafe with _his_ mom, the art gallery with _her_ mom, and starting a club with both of them to mix into her own concept.

It's a cafe during the day, with an excellent lunch menu. People can wander around the second floor art exhibit and bid on pieces that come from local talent. The evening sees a music club/bar, with live local bands of all genres and some of the best cocktails offered in the city (and the exhibit is off limits). It's simply called _Peyton's Place_, a play on her business and the old TV show.

The first year it opened, it was dubbed a trendy hotspot. The popularity never faded.

Lucas is proud of her. So proud, that he'd taken her to celebrate after her first positive review was written up in the papers. They'd gone to a bar.

Maybe he shouldn't have done that.

She was only twenty, not even old enough to drink, but he made sure to keep their glasses full. They were celebrating. That led to the odd decision to wander around town like a bunch of tourists and take in the city that never sleeps. They'd ice-skated, sang karaoke, fed some ducks (a half a bagel she forgot she put in her purse), and took a carriage ride around Central Park.

They'd ended the night at his place, turning up the music and dancing with each other until they were a laughing heap on the floor. Just like they'd done as kids. But it wasn't the same as back then.

Because this time, laughter slows when their gazes meet. It ceases to exist altogether when their mouths cling. Clothes melt away, hands roam over exposed skin, and breathy sighs fill the air. Before he can even form a clear thought, he's moving inside her, past a barrier he's too muddled to comprehend the meaning of, face buried within her mass of curls against her neck. He's touching the softest skin he's ever felt, running hands up legs that no longer resemble toothpicks in any way, and tasting the addicting flavor of Peyton mixed with the heady scent of tangy apples from her hair.

It's a long night, neither one starting a conversation they both know they should be having, instead choosing to indulge in each other. Over and over, until they're so exhausted, they collapse into slumber.

She's gone when he wakes. And he can't say he likes that. He's also not sure what it means, or what she wants him to do next. There's no note, or message of any kind. He's stubborn, pissed, and hurt enough to do nothing, deciding she knows where to find him when she wants him.

They have absolutely no contact for the next year.

So much for taking care of her.

**0.o o_o o.0**

He's twenty-five when he gathers up the courage to put himself out there.

He's written a book, a piece of fiction that's loosely based on the lives of people he grew up with. The main protagonist is a fiery-tempered, strong willed, absolutely big-hearted young woman who takes the world by storm. He hates to admit it, but she's based on Peyton. At least the Peyton he knew before she ran out on him. He's still angry and bitter about that.

He only knows she's still doing well because her business is written up in magazines almost weekly. And his mom always slips in a couple of tidbits of news she heard from Anna. he's aware that with the way their moms talk, Peyton knows how he's doing as well. But it doesn't alleviate the bitterness.

He wants to know why. And he's tired of not knowing.

So he asks.

He gets her address from Anna, choosing to just show up with no advance warning on a Sunday morning, not giving her the opportunity to avoid him. The door's wrenched open by a disheveled, grumpy Peyton, looking so much like she did all those mornings he'd wake her up when they were younger, that the anger fades into a feeling of amused fondness. This is Peyton.

The same person who ate his cookie and blamed it on his stuffed bear when she was three.

The same girl who pinkie-swore that she wouldn't be scared after watching _Children of the Corn_, and then proceeded to keep him awake all night until he let her sleep with him.

The same look on her face _now_ as back then, when she was happy to see him, but wanted to be mad, but couldn't stop the smile, either.

The same woman who left while he was sleeping, without the decency of leaving behind a note.

"Hey Peyton. How've you been? I'm just dandy." He sarcastically mocks the greeting, pushing his way into her small apartment. He doesn't want to admit that he's relieved she's alone. But he is.

She scowls at him, pushing back her tangled hair impatiently. "Luke? What are you doing?"

"Making breakfast." He strides into her kitchen, jerking open the refrigerator and peering inside. "You want an omelet? Or fried eggs and toast?"

He glances behind him to see the utter confusion spread across her features. Good. He's glad. She hesitates, opening her mouth to speak a few times before closing it again. She kind of falls into a chair at her table, absently shrugging the loose T-shirt back into place on her shoulder.

Peering at him in concern she tries, "I...I don't understand. What are you doing _here_?"

"Why'd you leave?" He shuts the fridge, turning to face her.

He guesses her mind is still hazy from sleep, she's confused by his presence and thrown completely off balance, because she answers faster than he would have expected. And she doesn't pull any punches.

"I didn't want to be a mistake you made."

He's afraid his knees might not hold him any longer, so he, too, plops into a chair at the table. "_What_?"

"God, Luke!" She moves her hands in agitation, apparently more clear-headed now. "I spent practically my _whole_ life following you around! I don't know when anything changed, but it _did_. For me. One day I'm thinking up ways to annoy you, and the next I'm jealous when you tell me you had your first kiss. And not because I wanted mine, but because _I_ wasn't _yours_!"

He's caught completely off guard. He did not see that one coming. "But—I mean, okay, yeah. _Before_, as a kid. Why'd you leave, _last year_?"

"You don't get it." She groans, leaning her head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment. "It only got worse. I just—and you—do you remember that last summer you were home?"

"Yeah." He does. Spending time with his dad working on Peyton's car, trying not to die while teaching her how to drive, some chick he had a fling with....oh.

At the abashed face he makes, a tiny quirk lifts a corner of her mouth. "Yeah. I wanted to hate you _so bad_ that summer. I was sixteen...I thought I was so grown-up. And you were off slutting it around—"

"Hey!"

"You _were._ You ignored me, and when you finally found time for me, you treated me like the kid next door again. The one I didn't want to be."

He leans forward. "Hell, Peyton! I was _twenty_...you were _sixteen_. You _were_ still a kid! I had no business thinking of you that way!"

At her slow, stunned blink, he realizes just what he revealed.

"You thought of me that way? Then?" She looks shyly pleased at the thought and he groans softly, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"That's not important." He dismisses with a wave of his hand. "The point is, why you left."

She smirks. "It's important to _me_. I tried the whole dating thing, you know. It kinda sucked. Anyway, when we—last year, we—" She fumbles to a stop, flushing a little.

"Slept together?" He offers helpfully, quite enjoying her flustered state.

"Yeah. That." She takes a deep breath, bringing her hand to nervously fiddle with the neck of her T-Shirt. "I know we were kind of drunk. But it was still a big deal for me. I had imagined that moment _so_ many times...I just—I didn't want to hear you say it shouldn't have happened. I couldn't..."

He slowly nods, having to admit she had a point. He had freaked out a little when morning brought the memory of what they'd done. Okay, a _lot_. It would not have been pretty if she had stayed to witness his ungluing. She was the girl he grew up with, the girl he was supposed to take care of. He wasn't supposed to be someone she'd need protecting _from_.

But all of that had been overshadowed when she hadn't been there. When he realized she was _gone_. When the knowledge finally slapped him across the face with what he'd done.

"About that, " He starts hesitantly, but she cuts him off.

"Look, don't be all guilty about..._that_, okay?"

"But, Peyton, you deserved—"

"A moment I'll remember always." She interjects smoothly. "That's what I got." She ignores the grin that flashes across his face to continue, "It's not like I didn't have the opportunity before, you know? I just...I could do the making out part just fine, but when it started to become more, I'd...hit this wall."

He knows he probably shouldn't feel this way, but he can't help being smug. That _he_ got to be the man who introduced her to that part of relationships. He's also slightly flattered to know (for sure, now) that he'd satisfied her. He would have hated if the memory of her first time was one she hated in any way. And maybe that's when he realizes that _that_ played a large role in why he hesitated to contact her after their night together.

He couldn't have stood knowing she hated him.

She yawns, scrunching up her face. He's charmed to see that some things never change.

"Luke?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you _here_? You never answered that..." She quirks her eyebrow at him.

He rolls his eyes and studies her, before finally blurting, "I wrote a book."

Her eyes widen, then she's suddenly up and around the table to throw her arms around his neck. "Luke! Oh my God!"

"Yeah." He laughs, tugging her down onto his lap so he can hug her close. She'd always done that growing up when he'd told her great news; but this time, he's _aware_ of how her body fits against his, of the scent that haunted his thoughts long after their night, of the fact that she's no longer a little girl, but a woman. A _beautiful_ woman.

He thinks similar thoughts must be running through her head now, too, because she becomes still in his arms. He takes a moment to breathe her in before slowly pulling back. He absently tucks a curl behind her ear.

She regards him solemnly. "Um...That's amazing, Luke."

He can tell by her tone she's uncertain how to handle the moment they find themselves in. So is he. And he simply doesn't want to pretend it's not happening. Not now, not after everything he learned this morning.

"It is." He smiles. "There's a launch party, since it's going to be published by my company. Will you go with me?"

A smile stretches across her lips. "Really?"

"That's not an answer, Peyton." He chuckles, not at all worried she's going to say no. The look on her face tells him that.

"Well, my answer is yes." She says airily, climbing off his lap, smoothing down her shirt, and moving towards the coffee pot. "Tell me." She demands.

So he does. While they make and eat breakfast, he explains about writing whenever he was frustrated with work. About using a pseudonym to shop his book around, and an editor in his company being excited to work with it. He tells her about how surprised his coworkers were when they found out it was his manuscript. But they still wanted to publish it, so he happily signed a contract. They'd worked for the last year editing it and going through a post-production stage, and now it was ready for release. A launch party in New York would be the first step, before he's sent on a cross-country tour.

He confesses that she's the first person outside the company to know about it. He even pinkie-swears on it.

She tears up when he does, telling him that she'd been afraid their relationship was ruined forever.

He says it wouldn't be, because he made a promise to her dad. He says it like that, since he's always loved the grouchy look on her face when his _take care of Peyton_ promise is brought up. He used to find it hilarious. Now, it's also kind of sexy. But he doesn't say that.

The look he anticipated comes and goes on her face, before she laughs. "Whatever." She smirks, "And, maybe I'll just have to let you."

He's not sure what she means by that, or if she's just messing with his head. He's hoping she means it the way it sounded. Either way, he's definitely going to enjoy finding out.

**0.o o_o o.0**

The year she turns twenty-three marks some pretty big changes.

They kind of fell back into their friendship after the morning they spent in her kitchen and he invited her to his launch party. There was just the added bonus of sex. And romance. While he was on tour, they explored some boundaries to the new aspect of their relationship...he's frankly amazed at what can be accomplished with mere words. He spent that entire trip literally aching for her.

Since they both reside in New York, they tried the dating thing once his tour ended. She laughed at the fact that practically nothing changed from how they always used to hang out _before_ they moved beyond friendship. He actually likes that it hasn't. Hanging out with her is never boring, and they still never run out of things to talk about.

It doesn't take long before he has her practically moved into his place. They hardly ever stay at hers, because he dislikes the lack of space in her studio apartment. His as least has separate rooms for things. And a pretty awesome view. He usually encourages her to stay the night, to keep "get ready" stuff in his bathroom and clothes in his closet.

She's the one who brings up living together. Her lease comes up a few months after they start their relationship, and she reasons that she practically lives with him already, anyway. But it might also have something to do with his not-so-subtle hints for her to keep some of her records (of which she has hundreds) at his place instead of carting them back and forth. He knows full well that her records _always_ stay at her house and nowhere else.

They move her in. It takes two weeks to pack, drive, and unpack her entire home. It only takes three days before he realizes that it feels like she's lived there for years. That scares him a tiny bit, but mostly he just wants to celebrate. So they do. Mainly by ensuring that they've 'christened' every surface of the place.

Both their moms are surprised by the new development, but both are very supportive. As long as Lucas and Peyton are happy, then they are, too. The only one who isn't shocked (at all) is Keith. He claims he saw it coming from a mile away, especially that summer Peyton got her Comet. He teases Lucas about not knowing it was possible for a boy to be that blind. But he also confides in his son that he's happy nothing happened back then. Because Peyton was still only a kid. Four years isn't as big of a deal when both people are over twenty...which makes Keith say that they _still _kind of took longer than he'd thought they would to finally get it together.

Their first two years together are pretty amazing, if you ask him. They argue, they play, they love. It's more than he ever hoped a relationship could be. She usually says the same thing. But sometimes, she says she figured it _would_ be that way, just because they've been friends for so long.

And for some odd reason, the saying _I love you_ stage, actually developed somewhat normally. For them, anyway.

He said it first.

He was watching her rushing around to get ready for a work meeting, since he'd delayed her in the shower. She snitched his favorite tie from his side of the closet, using it as a makeshift belt, because it matched the vibe she was feeling. He'd nearly fallen off the bed from laughing at that logic. When she'd pouted at his reaction, he'd simply kissed her pout and said the words. She smiled and kissed him back. He honestly found himself not caring that she hadn't said it too, simply because she had already basically told him anyway, when they first got together.

It took almost two weeks before she did actually say it.

She was mad, upset over a stupid comment he made regarding that one summer she still kind of hates the memory of. Nothing he said was appeasing her at all, which was making him frustrated. Finally, he'd thrown up his arms in exasperation and asked why it was such a big deal in the first place. She'd yelled, _because I love you, Moron! _

Both of them had paused, laughed, and then teased each other about it.

He's sort of glad neither of them made a huge deal about those words. They seemed to mean more when they weren't expected. Plus, it kind of would have put a damper on the massively romantic plans he's spent the last few months perfecting.

Her birthday was low-key, celebrated exactly the way she wanted. The month following her birthday was as normal as can be...on the surface. Underneath it all, Lucas spent his time scheming up a way to ask an all-important question. He planned romantic dinners, moonlit walks, hundreds of candles, scattered rose petals, beautiful words kind of ways. He dreamed of down on one knee, music in the background, amazing desserts to share kind of moments. He even asked his dad for tips...got nothing from there.

So he put it all together, made sure no other plans were made for a weekend, and set everything into motion.

He's eagerly awaiting her reaction to their big night.

They're dressing for dinner; she's in the bathroom finishing up her hair, while he's fiddling with the tie around his neck. No matter how many times his dad has shown him how to do this, he still can't tie a nice knot. He's frowning at his reflection when she walks up behind him, a smirk dancing on her lips.

"Need help, babe?" Laughter's clear in her voice, making him narrow his eyes at her reflection.

He sighs, tugging the knot free for the umpteenth time. "Nah, I got this."

She rolls her eyes, sliding a hand up his arm and exerting just enough pressure to have him turning to face her. He can't resist kissing the smirk that's still there. Peyton pulls away with a murmured, "Love you."

"Love you, too." He smiles down at her, lightly pulling on a curl just to watch her expression change to mock vexation. He chuckles.

She grins, letting her eyes drift down the ends of the tie she's playing with. With a low hum of contentment, she expertly forms a clean knot, letting the tie fall against his chest before giving it a small pat.

He playfully groans. "One day, I'm actually going to be able to do that on my own."

"But that's what you have me for." She teases with a light laugh, before reciting, "Every girl should know how to tie a knot 'round her man."

Nodding, he reaches a hand into his pocket, "And every man should know how to make sure that knot is tied _good_ and _tight_."

Confusion enters her eyes, but before a question can pass her lips, he lifts a small black box between them. Using his thumb to flip it open, he reveals a gorgeous platinum diamond setting that has her audibly sucking in air.

His voice is gruff and low with emotion, "Marry me, baby."

"_Okay_." It's almost a soundless whisper, but he hears her loud and clear. She sighs out a small laugh and tears sparkle in her eyes as he slides the ring onto her finger with a disbelieving half-laugh of his own.

So maybe plans were made to be messed up. This was so much better, anyway.

Lucas practically yanks her into his arms, crushing her mouth under his. Her arms wind around his neck, one hand sliding to the back of his head to grip his hair. He separates from her only long enough to ask, "Really?"

She nods, laughing, "Really, really." before fusing their lips again, opening her mouth when his tongue begs entrance.

Without thought, he buries his hands wrist-deep into loose curls, while hers slide across his chest. His head falls back with a groan as she trails her mouth in small, nipping kisses down his jaw and to the spot on his neck they discovered one night. She lingers there for a moment, sending his pulse into overdrive. He knows she's aware of it by the smile he can feel against his skin.

Lucas emits a small growl, forcing her mouth back to his with his hands, trailing one down her back to easily release the zipper of her strapless dress. He pushes the material over her hips, leaving her in nothing but a pair of dainty panties. Her fingers busily undo the knot she'd just done, to let the tie fall to the floor. Oxygen becomes imperative, but when they separate, he pulls nearly completely away, taking the chance to just look at his _fiancée_.

She's standing there, hair oh-so-sexily mussed, a flush spread across her skin, emotion naked on her face. She absolutely takes his breath away. Even more so when she smirks and reaches for his shirt, purring, "You don't need this, do you?"

He can only shake his head jerkily, savoring the feeling of her small hands brushing against his chest, his abs. She tugs him to her by the bottom of his shirt, sliding her palms over muscles that tense with the friction, and pushing the material off his shoulders and down his arms, linking their hands together for a moment.

He lowers his forehead to hers, breathing her in, brushing his lips over her nose, each eyelid, soft cheekbones, feminine jaw, to finally capture her mouth. Banding his arms around her waist and hips, he lifts her off the ground, turning to place her on their bed. Hands lazily smooth along bare skin accompanied by slow, deep kisses.

He's not sure how long that goes on for, before he stands to rid himself of uncomfortable slacks and boxers. Staring hotly into deep green eyes, Lucas hooks fingers on either side of emerald lace, skimming his hands down long, endless legs to discard her panties by his feet. He glides his hands back up those legs, pushing them apart to settle in the cradle of them, careful to keep his full weight from crushing her.

A soft, throaty moan escapes her arched neck, and she pushes her body up into his. Her hands stroke everywhere they can reach, driving him half-delirious with pleasure.

It's not long before he's buried deep within her, one hand anchoring her hips, tilting her body to reach ever deeper heat. Each thrust causing a deep groan to leave his throat, as he climbs higher towards release. She's arched beneath him, legs wrapped tightly high around his waist, hand fisted in his hair, sending a zinging flash of pleasure-pain down his spine. She's murmuring his name in a breathless chant, separating the syllables with an inhale, exhale rhythm that keeps catching.

He's almost too close, but he can feel her right there on the edge with him. He increases his pace slightly, lifting his face from her neck to briefly meet her eyes. The eyes of his future _wife_. The thought alone is enough to bring him to the point of no return, but he won't leave her wanting. One touch sends her over and he follows in a deafening, blinding, mindless fall.

When he's aware again, he musters up the energy to roll with her to their sides, despite the tiny squeak of protest she makes, shaking her head against his neck as she burrows there. He doesn't want to crush her; she's his to protect in any way he's able. Right this moment, that means letting her have the option to breathe.

They spend the rest of the night celebrating their engagement, with Peyton alternating between tearily sentimental and excitedly happy every time light catches the ring, causing it to glint and shine. He's more focused on delighting in every expression that crosses her face in those moments, mentally storing them away to be examined at his leisure when he's ever missing her.

They definitely miss their dinner reservation.

But he thinks it's worth it, to sprawl across a bed with the woman he loves, and _take care_ of each other. And they'll get the rest of their lives to do it, too.

**0.o o_o o.0**

On his thirty-first birthday, Lucas falls head over heels in love with another girl, and his whole world changes.

She enters his life with a bang and it only takes one look to determine she's the most beautiful girl to grace the world. He can't take his eyes off of her; he can't keep his hands from touching her, either, as soon as she's close enough.

They name her Sawyer Annaleigh Scott.

Mainly because they like the initials. Also because Peyton was the last person to carry the Sawyer name into the next generation, and she no longer does. She tells Lucas that it feels a little like a tribute to her dad, which makes her cry as she holds their daughter.

When there's a quiet moment, Peyton falls into an exhausted sleep leaving Lucas to cradle his tiny girl and study her closely. She only has a light fuzzing of hair, she's kind of pinkish, her eyes are closed, and her hands are fisted. It makes his heart melt when he watches her face scrunch up before she opens her eyes. Right now, they're bluish-grey; he hopes they turn green, which is his favorite color.

It's too soon to tell where her features come from, but he decides she looks almost exactly like Peyton used to as a baby. Beautiful. She blinks up at him, shifts against his chest, and opens her mouth in a small yawn before closing her eyes again.

He stares, fascinated, and thinks about the moment he first learned about her.

He'd walked into their apartment to find his wife pacing around the living room, wide-eyed and nervous. She had tried to dodge his concerned questions, asking why he was home early. They'd ended up having a stand-off, staring silently at each other, waiting for the other person to break; he'd won. She'd fidgeted, but finally confessed that a comment made by a client that morning had her thinking something serious.

"Don't be freaked, or whatever, but I'm late."

He'd been a little confused. "Late for what?" Then had felt like a total idiot when it hit him a second later. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Peyton had given a little nervous chuckle, running her hand through her hair. "I...um, I did the 'pee on a stick' thingie, and I'm just...waiting."

He'd perched on the back of the couch, facing her. "Are you okay about this? I mean, _I_ am...if we are." He'd grinned widely at her. "Really okay, actually."

"You're not just saying that? Because we _did_ have a plan, and the plan isn't now." He could tell she'd been on the verge of panicking. Sometimes she did that when she was waiting for big news.

He had nodded, standing to pull her into his arms in an effort to bring her comfort. She'd snuggled closer, sighing. Less than a second later, she wrenched out of his embrace and marched into the bathroom. She came out, tears tracking down her cheeks, wide smile, and happiness written all over her face. He'd known with just that one look.

He had swept her into his arms, twirling her around giddily, laughing. As soon as her feet touched ground, he'd kissed her.

Wiping his thumb under her eye, needing to hear her say it, "We're..?"

"We're having a baby! _Our_ baby!" She'd practically squealed. "Oh my God! I can't...you're happy, right?"

He had just kissed her again. "Of course, I'm happy! Damn near ecstatic!"

"Promise?"

"Pinkie-swear."

Teary-eyed, but delirious with joy, they performed a childhood ritual rarely done since their teenage years, this time ending it with a _real_ kiss, too. It's a ritual he vowed to teach their own children one day.

"And I will." He now croons to his sleeping infant.

A low murmur, "Will, what?" has him turning his attention to his wife. Peyton's sleepily watching him.

He smiles gently, "Will show her how to make a pinkie-swear even stronger."

Nodding, Peyton lightly chuckles, shifting a little closer, so she can see their baby girl. "Just like you did with me."

"Yeah." He blows her a kiss. "You were so cute."

Peyton rolls her eyes. "You did _not_ think so then. You always pulled my hair, and called me 'toothpick legs', and made fun of me all the time."

"You bugged me." Lucas laughs, glancing down at their daughter and running a finger over her cheek. "Besides, I only ever pulled your hair to watch the curls bounce back up, no other reason."

"What?" She looks slightly startled.

He smiles sheepishly. "I still do it sometimes. Like, when you're sleeping."

She laughs loudly; he loves the feelings that wash over him at the carefree sound. "Okay, _weirdo_. I guess whatever floats your boat."

Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of their family members, wanting to see the baby and visit with Peyton. Lucas looks around the room and has to acknowledge the slight sense of familiarity. Like he's lived a similar moment before. When he takes the moment to think about it, he realizes it _is_ there a little bit. He's holding a baby girl in his arms, Anna and Karen are cooing over her and exclaiming how beautiful she is. Only, this time, he readily agrees. Only, this time, it's _his_ baby girl. His baby with the girl from his memories.

Then, he made a promise to the little girl's daddy. Now, he makes the silent promise to himself, since he's the little girl's daddy.

Then, there were times he went out of his way to keep it. Now, there will never be a time when it feels hard to keep it.

Then, he tried to do it on his own most of the time. Now, he'll always have Peyton by his side to help.

But, that doesn't mean the first promise no longer needs to be kept. It always will be. He's spent his entire life watching over Peyton. At first, because he was given that responsibility that made him feel so grown-up. Soon, it became a matter of friendship, of caring about what happened to her. Then, somewhere down the line, without him even realizing it, that promise simply became as natural as breathing. He fell in love with her.

Both of these girls are _his_...his gifts, his love, his absolute _joy_. And there's nothing that can make him _not_ take care of these two girls who form everything essential in his world.

For the rest of his life. And that's a pinkie-swear kind of promise.

_fin.

* * *

_

**A/N: So, what did you think? Like I said, the style feels a little different...good, bad? Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.**_  
_


End file.
